


A Duty of Care

by BondedWings



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Brotherly Love, Family, Gen, Hobbitcon fanbook 4, Oneshot, Protectiveness, devotion vs. pride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 11:49:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6004870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BondedWings/pseuds/BondedWings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin then felt a small hand grip his leather jerkin and looked down to meet his older nephew’s eyes. </p><p>“I will look out for him,” Fíli said. “He’ll get stronger and I’ll be smarter, and then you won’t have to worry. I’ll make sure he doesn’t get into trouble."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Duty of Care

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! Bit of a change from my usual stuff (not really), but I've been in an unexpected Tolkien-mode, ever since discovering the lovely determamfidd and her lovechild: Sansûkh http://archiveofourown.org/works/855528 
> 
> Go check it out if you want your heart broken, then pieced back together again.
> 
> I wrote this for the 2016 Hobbitcon fanbook~ I chose Fíli and his theme, 'Devotion vs Pride'.
> 
> Enjoy~

When Fíli and Kíli were young, too old to cry over scraped knees and broken toys, but young enough for their mother to plant soft kisses on their whiskers, Uncle Thorin came and told them stories of a Lonely Mountain, far off to the east. A kingdom, a treasure and a home that was rightfully there’s.

“One day, we will take back our homeland,” he said with such longing that Fíli felt it practically shine out of his face like the brightest strain of mithril. “We shall take it back from the dragon and the Mountain will open to welcome its rightful king once again.”

“We’ll help!” Kili declared, raising his toy sword high. “No dragon is a match for great warriors like us!”

Jumping up, he started waving his wooden blade about, already conjuring monsters to slay and yearning for adventure.

Thorin then felt a small hand grip his leather jerkin and looked down to meet his older nephew’s eyes.

“I will look out for him,” Fíli said. “He’ll get stronger and I’ll be smarter, and then you won’t have to worry. I’ll make sure he doesn’t get into trouble."

A rare smile crossed their uncle’s face, though it was gone a moment later. He raised his hand and pressed it down gently on top of Fíli’s golden head, warm to the touch and steady as the ground below his feet.

“You have the makings of a fine King.”

~.~.~.~.~

“Do you think we’re in the right place?”

“The wizard said we’d know it by the mark on the door. We’ll spot it eventually.”

“I still think we should’ve made a left at that field.”

“Which? I’ve counted five since we arrived.”

“You know… the one with the straw watchman in the middle.”

“That still only narrows it down to three.”

The two brothers walked in silence for a while, checking each round door for their destination. Finally Kíli broke the silence.

“Do you think Uncle’s already arrived?”

Fíli shook his head. “Doubtful. His sense of direction is worse than yours.” Kíli gave him a shove, which Fíli quickly returned. After another few minutes, Kíli spoke again.

“I still can’t believe it’s really happening,” he breathed. “The quest is beginning. We’re going to Erebor. We’re going home.”

Fíli nodded. He could scarcely believe it himself. The two sons of Durin had trained long and hard for the day that they would be able to join their uncle’s quest. Now the day had finally arrived, prompting Fíli and Kíli to leave Ered Luin with their packs and weapons strapped to their bodies (and hidden carefully throughout, in Fíli’s case), a rune stone in Kíli’s pocket, and a promise to keep of his own from his mother.

_“Take care of them, my son.”_

No easy task, but thankfully looking after Kíli had always been second nature. Still, there was something unsettling about seeing his younger brother with such a serious look on his face.

“Don’t worry, _nadad,_ ” Fíli teased, a playful lilt in his voice. “When you get eaten by a troll, I’ll be sure to dig you out.”

He ducked to avoid his brother’s swing, smiling at his laugher, and at that moment he also spotted a glow in the distance from another home atop the oncoming hill. He pointed and as Kíli let out a triumphant noise, Fíli was certain that everything would turn out right.

~.~.~.~

Even with the cheers of Laketown around them, Fíli still heard Thorin’s orders to Kíli and watched as his brother’s face turn even paler, not just in sickness.

“Uncle…” he pleaded. “We grew up on tales of the Mountain. Tales you told us! You _cannot_ take that away from him!”

“Fíli,” Thorin warned, but his elder nephew pushed on regardless.

“I will carry him if I must!”

His uncle met his pleas with a stony expression. “One day you will be King and you will understand. I cannot risk the fate of this quest for the sake of one dwarf.” His words were soft, but firm. “Not even my own kin.”

Fíli’s felt as though his head had been filled with melted iron. There was no chance for compromise, no room for debate. Thorin’s decision had been made and it was final. His little brother would not go to the Mountain this day.

Kíli would not be there when the door opened into the kingdom they had been dreaming of all their lives. He would not be amongst the first to walk through the towering halls of Erebor, would not raise his now trained sword arm against the might of Smaug, would not wonder at the ancient bronze billows and smelting pots, or gaze upon the treasure trove of their ancestors. He would not feel the stone’s living pulse, see it’s veins running with iron, silver and mithril as the Mountain’s heart beat all around them. Kíli would stay behind, and Fíli would go on without him.

It was the easiest decision of his life.

“Fíli, don’t be a fool,” Thorin ordered as he stepped out of the boat and back onto the docks. His grip was tight on the young prince’s arm. “You belong with the Company.”

“I belong with my brother.”

~.~.~

Fíli heard the clashing of swords and the screams of dwarves and orcs alike from over the wall. The fighting was but a few feet away, and yet the young heir had never felt so removed from a battle.

Bilbo… Poor, _brave_ Bilbo, who had dared to do what he hadn’t. The hobbit had been able to see what they refused to in their glorious triumph. Now he was gone, cast out of the Company by a King who could no longer tell foe from friend. Or even kin.

Fíli had tried.

The moment they had descended from the battlements, the young prince had reached for his Uncle, desperate to make him see sense. It was not the way of dwarves to hide and cower while a battle raged on. Dáin had answered their call and now he needed help! Bilbo was out there!

“Thorin…” he had tried. “Uncle-”

Thorin had whirled about to face him, his eyes shining with a crazed look and darting across the younger dwarf’s face as though he could not quite place him. The gold sickness radiating off him was so strong that Fíli had to fight his own compulsion not to succumb to its siren song. Thorin had batted away Fíli’s hand and his nephew recalled a time where the weight of his uncle’s hand had been the greatest source of strength and safety. Now, his touch practically burned.

“Keep fortifying the walls,” Thorin had bit out. “No one shall reach us.”

Without waiting for a response, he’d stalked away, a hazy vision of armor and finery.

Now Fíli sat and took in what remained of their broken company. Dwalin off trying where Fíli had failed and Kíli’s usually jovial face pulled tight with fury. A death cry from the battlefield filled his throat with bile, but he swallowed it back down. Even as his blood roared out in protest, his devotion held him fast. He could not leave. He would not leave. He was a Prince of Erebor, a son of Durin. His place was with his comrades, his brother, his King. For good or ill that would remain true even when madness took the rest.

~.~

“Stay here,” he instructed, keeping Kíli at bay. Already he had come so close to death and still his little brother was ever eager to rush into danger. “Search the lower levels.”

Kíli was clearly unwilling to leave his brother alone, and Fíli couldn’t say he didn’t feel the same, but they couldn’t afford to let nerves cloud their judgment now. Not when victory was so close. Not now that that dearly missed fire had finally returned to their uncle’s eyes, chasing away the shadows and the poisonous grip of greed.

He could not afford to be weak when Thorin and Kíli had been so strong.

Fíli turned back toward the source of sounds, through the tower’s tunnels, a hand gripped firmly around his sword’s hilt.

“I’ve got this.”

He felt Kíli hesitate behind him, but a moment later heard him dash back the way they had come. Fíli sucked in a breath and steadied himself before moving onward.

Kíli would be fine.

~

“No…” Not them _. Not him._

Time seemed to slow as he thrashed in Azog’s grip, lifted high like a trophy, presented to the group that stood below them. If only he had his sword…

Kíli was nowhere in sight; a small mercy. He prayed to Mahal as he continued to struggle. Just once, just this once… let his brother be smart _._

But there was no time! He was lost and they needed to go! Bilbo and Dwalin, yet he focused on Thorin’s face, anguished and lost but still himself and Fíli was somehow comforted even in his panic.

There was still time! Fíli still had time! He could still help! He could still…!

“RUN!” he roared before the blade pierced his flesh and everything came to a halt.

_Thorin Kíli Thorin Bilbo Kíli Thorin Kíli Thorin Dwalin Kíli Thorin Kíli_

_Mother…_

_I tried._


End file.
